


Decorating the Tree

by ToAStranger



Series: December FF Challenge 2k14 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, like for real there's nothing else going on for this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is grouchy.  Stiles likes to nose into other people's business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decorating the Tree

**Author's Note:**

> DECFANFIC Day Eight
> 
> Theme: Decorating the Christmas Tree
> 
> Prompt: I know you're doing the December fanfic challenge and when I looked at "Decorating the tree" I got this sad image of Peter refusing to help with anything that has to do with decorating. No one takes mind of it but Stiles, who later finds out (via Derek?) that when the Hale house burned down, decorations passed down were burned with it. Stiles tries to find all the original or similar looking decorations to put Peter back into the holiday spirit.

“Come on, dude!  You can’t tell me that you aren’t at least a little infected with Christmas cheer.”  Stiles calls over his shoulder as he dangles one of the store bought ornaments from the tree—only to have Lydia shift it to a different branch the second he moves on to another.

Peter sneers, legs crossed in front of himself as he flips idly through some awful murder-mystery.  “I’m just not overly fond of decorating trees.  That’s something for the children to do.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but his focus goes back to grouping decorations haphazardly over the tree.  When Lydia huffs, swatting at Stiles’ hands as he tries to hang to identical pieces side by side, he grins but takes a step back at her shooing. 

He heads to the kitchen, opening the fridge door by the bottom corner with the toe of his sneakers.  Derek snorts from where he’s mixing together a mug of eggnog. 

“Hey, what’s up with uncle creepy?”  Stiles asks, idle as he attempts to drink out of the jug of milk, sputtering as Derek plucks it from his grip. 

“What do you mean?” Derek asks, adding a dash of milk to his mug. 

“He’s very _Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ , right now.” Stiles shrugs, leaning against the edge of the counter, watching Derek move. 

“Is he?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods.  “Won’t join us in decorating.  Nothing.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to,” Derek edges, moving to brush by, but Stiles steps in his way.

Derek scowls even as Stiles holds up his hands.  “Yeah, okay, sure.  But hear me out.”

“What?”

“What if it’s something else?” Stiles adds quickly.  “And if is something else, you probably know about that something else, so…”

“So.”

“So tell me so I can fix it,” Stiles frowns.  

Derek shakes his head.  “Why would you want to?”

Stiles wavers for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek.  “Because everyone should be happy on Christmas.”

There is a pause.  Derek sighs heavily; Stiles feels triumphant.

* * *

Danny casts Stiles a sideways glance.  “You’re sure this won’t be illegal this time?”

Stiles’ lips thin slightly.

“ _Stiles_ —“

“Bro, it’ll be fine, just do the hacking thing.” Stiles says, bouncing slightly on his toes.

Danny sighs, facing the laptop as his fingers start tap-tap-tapping against the keyboard.  “Why exactly am I hacking into an outdated _Myspace_ account that isn’t even yours?”

“Reasons.”

Danny’s jaw goes tight.  He works quietly and then opens up the page.  Stiles presses close, bending over his shoulder to peer at the screen.

“What am I looking for here?” Danny asks.

“Go to the pictures,” Stiles says.

Danny clicks on it, opening the files up, and Stiles points to a box captioned “xmas 06.”  Brows furrowing, Danny tilts his head. 

“Is that your cousin?” he asks.

“Might be,” Stiles nods.  “Can you save all the pictures with the tree in it to my computer?”

Danny glances up at him, about ready to tell him to continue, but the look at Stiles’ face stops him.  His eyes skim over the expression, and Danny decides quickly that Stiles looks positively heart broken. 

He saves the files without another word.

* * *

“What in the world are you doing here?”

Stiles holds up a finger and then crouches, picking up a box he’d set at his feet gingerly.  It’s not huge, but it is bulky.  Stiles cradles it to himself like a newborn. 

“What in the world is that?” Peter frowns.

“Just…” Stiles sighs, holding it out.  “Just take it.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, and instead of taking it out of Stiles’ hold, he leans over and opens it up.  Swallowing thickly, Stiles shifts his weight.  Peter goes still; Stiles thinks he might have stopped breathing until he takes a deep, shuddering breath.  Blue eyes meet his briefly and then Peter reaches into the box, pulling out a delicately crafted glass ornament. 

He holds it in one hand, thumb dragging over the smooth surface.  His breath comes deliberately steady, and Stiles’ lips thin as he watches Peter’s eyes flit over the details of the ornament resting in his palm.

“Where did you--?” Peter’s voice cracks, and he pauses, jaw flexing.  When he speaks, his voice is lower.  A bit strained.  “Where did you find this?”

“Well, it’s not—It’s not what you think it is.”  Stiles says softly.  “It’s just… as close as I could find.  All of them are.  And I couldn’t find replicas of some of them because the pictures didn’t—“

“Pictures?” Peter meets his gaze sharply.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes, pushing the box into Peter’s arms and digging around in his pocket.  “Here.”

He holds out a slip of paper.  Peter reluctantly sets the box down at their feet, taking it.  His eyes skim over the information there.  Stiles clears his throat.

“I already gave Derek a copy of the log in stuff,” Stiles says in the ensuing quiet.  “I did some hunting, but it was definitely Laura’s old account.  She has other pictures in there too.  If you—You know, if you wanted to see them.”

Peter takes a sharp breath, nodding slowly.  “I see.”

Stiles falters.  “Right.  Well.  Um.  Merry Christmas or whatever.”

“Merry Christmas,” Peter says distantly.

Stiles turns on his heel and moves to head down the corridor leading to the elevator of Peter’s apartment complex.  He’s halfway down the hall when Peter calls for him.

Twisting around, he feels his heart stop at the genuine smile on Peter’s face. 

“Thank you, Stiles.” He says. 

"Yeah.  No problem."  Stiles nods once before continuing back towards the exit. 

When he is seated in his Jeep, ignition running, Stiles finally feels his heart start up again.


End file.
